Chapter 3 - THE MAN I CALLED BROTHER
Dominic’s bedroom was empty.
His closet wasn’t.
That told me he hadn’t planned to leave permanently.
At least not until something happened tonight.
Marco stood beside the open safe while two security men searched the suite.
“Passport’s missing,” he said.
“Cash?”
“Looks like some is gone.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
My mother remained downstairs with one guard outside the library.
I wanted to confront her again.
I wanted to tear the whole house apart.
Instead, I forced myself to think.
Dominic Vale had been beside me since we were twenty-three years old.
When my father died, Dominic stood three feet behind me at the cemetery.
When my first restaurant nearly failed, Dominic worked beside me without asking for a salary.
When competitors tried to force me out of Fulton Market, Dominic found investors.
When Claire and I got married, he stood as my best man.
And when I received photographs showing Claire being followed by strangers six months ago, Dominic was the man who placed them on my desk.
I remembered that morning with painful clarity.
“This came through one of our people,” he had said.
The photographs showed Claire leaving yoga class.
Claire buying coffee.
Claire getting into her car.
In every frame, the same gray sedan appeared nearby.
Then came the message.
Your wife is the easiest way to hurt you.
I had stared at those words until they burned into my eyes.
Dominic told me we could tighten security.
My mother argued it would only make Claire a bigger target.
And three days later, another envelope appeared.
This one included a photograph taken through the window of Claire’s favorite bookstore.
Close enough to see her wedding ring.
I panicked.
I didn’t tell Claire.
That was the decision I would hate myself for longer than any other.
Instead, I decided to make her leave me.
I made myself cold.
Cruel.
Convincing.
I convinced the woman who loved me that I no longer wanted her because I believed heartbreak would keep her alive.
Now the man who brought me the threat photographs had disappeared the same night I discovered Claire had been hidden from me.
I returned upstairs.
Claire was drinking water in small sips under Dr. Chen’s supervision.
When I entered, she looked at my hands.
People who knew me well did that when they expected blood.
There wasn’t any.
“Dominic left,” I said.
Claire’s eyes closed.
“You believe me now?”
The question hurt because she had every right to ask it.
“I should have believed you before you ever had to prove anything.”
She looked away.
I sat in a chair several feet from the bed.
“Tell me what happened when you came here.”
Dr. Chen started to object.
Claire stopped her.
“No. He needs to hear it.”
Her voice was soft but steady.
“Three months ago, before I knew I was pregnant, I came because I found something.”
“What?”
“Numbers.”
My heart sank.
Claire had always been better with numbers than people realized.
She had studied accounting before moving into nonprofit development. During our marriage, she helped oversee charitable programs connected to the DeLuca Family Foundation.
“What kind of numbers?”
“Foundation transfers.”
I stared at her.
“To where?”
“I didn’t know at first. There were recurring consulting payments to three companies I’d never heard of. Same amounts. Same dates every month. I asked Elena in accounting and she told me Dominic personally approved them.”
Marco, standing near the doorway, went still.
“How much?” I asked.
“Over three years?”
Claire swallowed.
“Almost six million.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
“And you came to tell me.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“I called first.”
“I never got it.”
“I know.”
“Then?”
“I came here.”
Claire’s hand moved over the blanket toward her stomach.
“Your mother met me downstairs.”
“Alone?”
“At first.”
I waited.
“She told me you were out of town.”
“I was in Milwaukee.”
“I know that now.”
“What did she say?”
Claire laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“She said the divorce was the best thing you had ever done.”
I clenched my jaw.
“She said I had embarrassed the family by looking into finances that didn’t concern me. I told her charitable money concerned everyone if it was being stolen.”
“What did she do?”
“She called Dominic.”
My pulse slowed.
Dangerously.
Claire continued.
“He came in through the side entrance.”
“Why?”
“He said the accounts were legitimate security expenses.”
“They weren’t.”
“I didn’t believe they were.”
“What happened next?”
Claire stared at me for several seconds.
Then she said, “He put the photographs on the table.”
Every hair on my arms rose.
“What photographs?”
“The same ones you saw.”
The room went silent.
“You saw them?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“That night.”
My voice dropped.
“What did Dominic say?”
Claire’s eyes filled.
“He said those pictures were why you divorced me.”
I stopped breathing.
“He told you?”
“Yes.”
“But I never told him to.”
“He said you were too proud to admit you still loved me.”
I leaned forward.
“And then?”
“He told me that if I cared about you, I would stop digging into the foundation and disappear.”
“What?”
“He said the people watching me weren’t really interested in me.”
Her voice trembled.
“They were interested in you.”
Marco muttered something under his breath.
Claire wiped at her cheek.
“I asked him whether he was threatening me. He smiled and said he was explaining consequences.”
My chair scraped the floor.
Dr. Chen said sharply, “Roman.”
I stopped.
Claire watched me.
“What did my mother do?”
“She stood there.”
That answer was worse than anything.
“She stood there while he threatened you?”
“She told me to be smart.”
I covered my mouth with one hand.
For months, I had told myself I destroyed Claire’s heart to save her life.
Now I realized the threat itself may have been part of the plan.
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
Claire’s expression changed.
“Because I still didn’t know who I could trust. The financial documents were connected to your companies. Dominic controlled security. Your mother controlled the foundation board.”
“And me?”
Her eyes met mine.
“You had already chosen to believe them instead of me.”
I had no defense.
There are moments when apologies become insulting because they are too small for the damage.
This was one of them.
A knock sounded at the door.
Gabriel Stone entered carrying two leather document cases.
He looked exhausted.
Then he saw Claire.
“Jesus.”
Claire stiffened.
I stood.
“What?”
Gabriel looked at me.
“You asked about the divorce settlement.”
“Yes.”
He placed the cases on a table.
“I confirmed the wire.”
“Where did it go?”
“To the account specified in the final settlement instructions.”
Claire frowned.
“I never gave settlement instructions.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“What?”
“I never received any settlement.”
His face changed.
“Claire, you signed the acknowledgment.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Gabriel pulled out a folder.
He found a page and placed it in front of her.
Claire looked down.
“That isn’t my signature.”
The room became silent again.
Gabriel stared at the paper.
I stepped beside him.
The signature looked like Claire’s.
Good enough to fool someone not looking closely.
But I had seen her sign thousands of things.
She never crossed the final T that way.
“Who sent you this?” I asked.
Gabriel swallowed.
“Dominic delivered the final packet.”
Of course he did.
“What account received the money?”
Gabriel opened his laptop.
“It went to an account at Lakeshore Continental.”
“In Claire’s name?”
“That’s what I believed.”
“Believed?”
He turned the screen.
The recipient name appeared as CB HOLDINGS TRUST.
Claire shook her head.
“I have never heard of that.”
Gabriel clicked again.
“The account was emptied forty-eight hours later.”
“Where?”
His face went pale.
“Into three separate entities.”
“Names.”
He read the first.
“Northline Consulting.”
Claire’s eyes widened.
“That was one of the companies stealing money from the foundation.”
The second was another name she recognized.
Then Gabriel read the third.
Nobody spoke.
Because unlike the first two, the third wasn’t an obscure consulting business.
It was a charitable entity.
One that hosted galas.
One that had photographs of Chicago politicians and business leaders on its website.
One whose board chair had held the position for twelve years.
The Alessandra DeLuca Women’s Initiative.
My mother’s foundation.
Claire’s two-point-four-million-dollar divorce settlement had been stolen.
And the money had gone directly into an organization controlled by the woman sleeping under my roof.
Then Marco’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
And slowly looked at me.
“What?”
“Security found Dominic’s car.”
“Where?”
“O’Hare.”
My jaw tightened.
Marco wasn’t finished.
“The car was empty.”
“Then find him.”
“We’re trying.”
He hesitated.
“There was something in the trunk.”
Claire’s fingers tightened around the blanket.
“What?”
Marco looked at her.
“A box.”
May you like
He turned back to me.
“It has Claire’s name written on it.”
